Box of Chocolates
by ChrissyWhissy
Summary: A box of chocolates is a bit, I dunno, romantic? I mean, it’s the sort of thing you'd expect as a Valentine's gift..." Written for the Reviews Lounge Valentine's Day Challenge. Ariana/Gellert


**b o x o f c h o c o l a t e s**

_She disturbed him_

She was _such _an odd creature. The way she could sit for hours and hours on end, not moving. Not a twitch, not a blink. Just like a statue, sitting on her bed for who knows how long, staring into space. Her clear blue eyes were distant, her expression vacant, as if she was in some kind of trance.

And when she finally moved, she acted as if nothing had happened. She had sat down for a moment, to rest her legs, but she was fine now, she said when he asked what had just happened. And she would smile, that sweet, innocent smile of hers, and inquired if he'd like to continue their game.

The way she cried. They would be doing something, anything, whether it was watering the flowers in the garden, or playing cards, or simply listening to the WWN, and suddenly he would notice the tears upon her face. She made no sound, but the tears would flow freely down her face, with no break, until suddenly they stopped. And she would continue whatever she was doing, as if nothing had happened, not even bothering to wipe the last of the tears off her face.

"Don't mind her," whispered Albus as he pulled him away from her, eager to work on their project, "She's not crying about anything… She's just weird like that."

_She fascinated him_

When he wasn't with her, he thought about her. He couldn't help but wonder at all her little oddities, which Albus shrugged off with a muttered "Crazy girl, don't mind her." Aberforth would reprimand him, when he was there, but never explained what she was, if not crazy.

So she remained a mystery, to him. He desperately wanted to solve it, her mystery. He spent time with her, he talked to her. She was, he discovered, a perfectly normal fourteen year old girl, except, well, when she wasn't. She disliked the way her brothers bossed her, she wished for some company of her own age and gender. She understood she was different, even believed she was dangerous. "But still," she would conclude every time.

But there were those times when she wasn't so normal. When Aberforth accidentally dropped a pan on the floor- the man was so clumsy, it really was sad- and she yelled, and clung to him, hugged him as though her life depended on it, like a small, frightened child. He stroked her hair, until her panic was gone, and she was once again fourteen.

_She captivated him _

She really was weird. Maybe that was why he couldn't tear his eyes off her. Everywhere she went, he followed with his eyes. He watched her from across the room, through the window, every chance he got. It was almost an obsession. Actually, scratch the almost.

He learned so much about her, from his observations. She hated red- the minute she saw anything red, she'd throw one of her tantrums. And heat; she couldn't stand heat. Aberforth always remembered to let her food cool down before she ate, but Albus was a little more forgetful. And she always showered in ice cold water. He knew, because he'd gotten in right after her, one of the times he'd stayed for the night.

She had a little swing, in the yard. She was rarely allowed to go out, but when she was, all she wanted was to swing. It was just another weird thing about her- a fourteen year old, spending her leisure hours swinging? But he learned to accept it, just like he learned to accept every other weird thing about her. It was that which fascinated him most of all, the way she was able to change him.

_She had his heart_

It was just another morning, much the same as all previous ones. He entered the Dumbledores' home, greeted by the usual quiet. Aberforth was probably out, and Albus would be in his room, waiting for his arrival. And like every morning, he did not immediately go upstairs, but first stopped by the little room that was hers, knocking gently on the door with his free hand.

"Good morning Ariana," he smiled at her, as she opened the door. "I've brought you something."

He handed her the little bag he held. His aunt had brought it for him from the market, yesterday. "Auntie, I'm not a child, you know," he had objected when he saw the gift lying on the table, "I don't need your presents."

"No matter, you can still have it. Or at least give it to the Dumbledore girl, if you won't take it. Poor girl, I'm sure she hasn't had any chocolate in a good while, and it would be a shame to throw it all…"

"A box of chocolates. I- Thanks, Gellert." She smiled, but it was forced, awkward. Not a real smile.

"Don't you like it? I mean, chocolate! Who doesn't like chocolate?" He was overly cheerful, teasing. He didn't want her to look at him like that, as if he'd done something terrible.

"No, no, it's not that. I love chocolate, though Abe never lets me have any. It's just…" She faltered, biting her lip, "A box of chocolates is a bit, I dunno, romantic? I mean, it's the sort of thing you'd expect as a Valentine's gift…"

He could feel the heat spread across his face. "No, no, that's not at all what I meant by it… Please, it's not like that," he was surprised to hear the pleading in his voice, as if he were begging her. "I found it lying around my aunt's house, and I can't eat it all by myself, you know," he was trying to lighten his voice, slip in some jokes, "So, y'know, I thought you'd like some."

"In that case," she smiled again, but this time truly, "Thank you very much. You'll come down later, after you finish with Al?"

That had happened a long time ago. He was older now, old by Muggle standards, and she was dead. He gazed at the calendar, which informed him today was the 14th of February, 1943. The closest he had ever gotten to a romantic gesture was that box of chocolates, and it still pained him, after so many years, to realize there would never be another chance.

A/N;; This is pretty new to me, writing Ariana/Gellert… Hope you've enjoyed it.

Review please!


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